


Sweet Night

by rubyjayne



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chapter Specific Content Warnings, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Good Morgana (Merlin), POV Alternating, Protective Gwen (Merlin), Sort Of, because we deserve it!, exploring morgana's magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyjayne/pseuds/rubyjayne
Summary: Morgana surveys the fire once more, her fear now muted by sheer fury, puts out her hand and closes her eyes."No," she says, out loud this time. Her voice does not shake.After her visit with the Druids, Morgana is quietly dealing with the realization that she has magic the only way she knows how: alone and in silence. Gwen,  who's been smitten with Morgana for as long as she can remember, can't help but notice that something is wrong and eventually pieces the truth together.
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)
Kudos: 24





	1. the night before the feast of beltane

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series exploring Gwen and Morgana, both together and apart, set after the events of episode 2x03. Technically, these will double as on-going missing scenes from my wip, so each chapter can (sort of) be read as a standalone! however there is an overall narrative to it all too :)
> 
> i wish we could have seen more of morgana dealing with the realization she has magic, learning how to control it, and the (pervasive, i’m sure) fear of being found out and executed in canon, so this chapter is an exploration of that - sorry for the angst not all the chapters will be this dark i swear!! and in case people don’t remember (i def had to google it), aglain is the druid man who helped morgana and talked to her about her magic, but was killed by a knight.
> 
> **CONTENT WARNINGS: brief suicidal ideation and canon typical violence (not graphic)**
> 
> [title from this song!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5ShoQimivM&ab_channel=VLENDING%EB%B8%94%EB%A0%8C%EB%94%A9)  
> disclaimer: i don't own bbc merlin or the characters

When Morgana wakes in the middle of the night, she sees nothing but flames leaping up all around her, crawling up the four posts of her bed and licking at the canopy above. But she’s had this dream before, too many times to count, and Morgana is nothing if not pragmatic, so she closes her eyes and lays back down. In the back of her sleep addled mind, she reminds herself that Gwen had taken the candle with her, and that this was just another horrid nightmare. A few moments pass, and it is only when she reopens her eyes to find the flames still creeping up across her bedspread that she allows herself to fully wake up and panic, her pragmatism quickly giving over to the primal fear that never seemed to fade these days, always just under her skin, no matter how much she tried to temper it.

She considers screaming for help, then considers not, considers doing nothing at all. It was not the pyre that she had expected, but perhaps burning in her own chambers would be preferable to a public display at the hands of Uther. But then, Morgana looks around and thinks that of all the ways to go, this must be the worst, and opens her mouth to call out. When she does, smoke forces its way into her mouth and down her throat, and the words come out only as a strangled gasp.

 _No_ _,_ she thinks, choking on her own sobs and blindly stumbling out of bed. She scrambles through a gap in the flames, ignoring the piercing heat of the embers that latch onto her nightdress, burning through the thin fabric and biting at her skin. Her eyes sting from the smoke and she heads for the door, then pauses, takes in the scene of rapidly growing destruction she was leaving behind, not a candle in sight. She wonders what possible explanation she could give for this. Uther would surely pin it on sorcery and in his haste, his bloodlust, would hunt down any individual he could blame and have them executed. 

Morgana thinks back to the empty look in Aglain’s eyes as he crumpled to the ground, his life of belonging and community ended in an instant by a carefully aimed arrow from one of Camelot’s finest, sent there only to retrieve her. She does not want any more blood on her hands. But if she revealed to Uther that it was her, that this fire was of her own doing, then that same fate would surely await her, and she might as well have just stayed in her bed and done nothing, at least affording herself the dignity of a private death rather than being made a spectacle of. As Morgana was struck with the impossibility of her situation, the rage that she had spent so much time carefully locking away lately boiled up inside her, simmering in her veins, making her heart thud in her chest and her breaths come in ragged pants.

Morgana surveys the fire once more, her fear now muted by sheer fury, puts out her hand and closes her eyes. 

"No," she says, out loud this time. Her voice does not shake.

When she opens her eyes, blinking away the last of her tears, there is no trace of the fire. There is nothing but the emptiness of her chambers and darkness pressing down on her, smothering her as if the smoke that had been in the air only a second ago was still present. 

Morgana steps forward, runs her hand over the bedpost. The wood that should have been charred from the ravaging flames was cold under her fingers and as pristinely polished as ever. She gasps, faintly notes that the air was once again crisp and pure with no hint of smoke, and then her legs give out. She crumbles, sitting down hard on her bed, the sheets of which were immaculate, as if the carefully stitched embroidery hadn’t been deformed, melting in on itself, just moments ago. 

In the back of her mind, she feels a flicker of pride, twisted and marred by the ever-present undercurrent of shame. _She_ had done that. Yes, she had started the fire, but she had also stopped it, and wasn't that what mattered? She wonders if this was what Aglain had meant when he told her that magic could be a force for good, his eyes full of a profound certainty in himself and his abilities that she deeply envied. Then, she remembers what he looked like with an arrow protruding from his chest, and the glimmer of pride, small as it was to start with, dissipates completely. 

As Morgana slinks back under her covers, still trembling, she is unable to fall back asleep and becomes prisoner to her fear once more.

The next morning, when Gwen beams up at her and asks if she’s decided what dress she'll be wearing to the feast tonight, Morgana can’t help but turn away, not wanting to see Gwen’s crestfallen expression when she tells her that she won’t be attending. 


	2. the pendragons are obsessed with flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for a gwen pov! this is mostly fluff because i wanted to write about morgana putting flowers in gwen's hair :)

“You shouldn’t have, my lady, really.”

Gwen stared down at the bouquet of wildflowers Morgana was presenting to her, trying not to take note of the way Morgana’s hands overlapped her own, lingering for a moment too long and then pulling away. 

“I thought they might put a smile on your face,” Morgana said, her gaze fixed on Gwen. “Since I’ve not exactly been the most enjoyable company lately.”

That got Gwen’s attention and she tore her eyes away from the delicate lilac petals and looked up at Morgana, her brow furrowed. “Don’t be silly, Morgana. I know- I know you’ve been down lately, but there’s no need to apologize for that, not to me.”

Morgana smiled one of her radiant smiles, the kind that seemed more and more rare nowadays. The kind that never failed to set Gwen’s heart aflutter, yet at the same time, made her long for the days where Morgana had slept peacefully every night and woken up carefree and content every morning.

“You’re too good to me Gwen, honestly.”

“Is it-” Gwen paused, then ventured a hesitant guess. “Is it your nightmares? Have they gotten worse?”

Morgana looked away and then sat down on her bed, hands smoothing the ends of her hair nervously, her smile fading. “Something like that.”

Gwen’s legs moved without having to really think about it and she found herself sitting on the bed next to Morgana, clasping one hand over hers and wishing she could do more to share whatever burden it was that Morgana carried with her.

“I could stay the nights, you know I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Gwen. But I’ve actually been feeling better lately, I promise.” Morgana’s smile had returned, but not quite as full force as it had been before, and she plucked a few flowers away from the bouquet where Gwen had settled it on her lap. “Would you like me to put some of these in your hair?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Morgana responded, not letting Gwen finish her sentence. 

After a moment, Gwen nodded at her in agreement, a small smile on her face as she turned so her back was to Morgana, perched precariously on the edge of the bed. Morgana’s hands were surprisingly warm as they briefly brushed over the nape of her neck before deftly arranging a few flowers into the bun that Gwen had hastily thrown her hair into this morning. She worked in silence and Gwen held very still, not trusting her body to resist leaning into Morgana’s touch.

“All done.” Morgana trailed her hands across her shoulders, tenderly tucking a few misplaced tendrils of hair back into the bun as she went, and then lightly tapped Gwen's arm, signalling her to turn back around. “You look lovely. Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

Gwen couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that, an exasperated smile playing across her lips at the inaccurate implication. “Thank you Morgana, but he’s not exactly my type.”

“Oh?” Morgana arched an eyebrow. “And what exactly is your type?”

Morgana’s eyes were twinkling with humor and a sort of challenge that Gwen wanted more than anything to accept, but as her heart pounded in her chest, she couldn’t quite bring herself to move. As the seconds passed, and Gwen looked towards the window for a reprieve from the intense glint in Morgana’s eyes, she suddenly realized that the sun was already in the midst of setting.

“My lady, you’re late for supper!” Gwen stood, pulling Morgana up with her. “The king will be expecting you.”

“Let him wait,” Morgana grumbled, but she reluctantly allowed Gwen to lead her towards the door. As she did, what Gwen didn’t see was the soft smile that grew on Morgana’s face as her gaze fell upon the flowers in Gwen’s hair. 


	3. understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a little nervous about this chapter, but i hope people like it :) for context, this fic is set in the universe of my other WIP in which gwen found out about merlin's magic. would love to hear your thoughts!!

When the door shuts behind them with a resounding thud, Morgana immediately sits down hard on her bed, her hands trembling slightly before she clenches them into two fists at her sides, gripping the bed sheets tightly. 

She looks afraid. Gwen wants to go to her, draw her into her arms, brush the hair off her forehead and tell her that there’s nothing to be fearful of. But she knows what Morgana has done, and she knows the cruelty of Uther, and so she knows that saying such a thing would be a lie. So instead she settles herself down on the edge of the bed next to her and gently places one hand over Morgana’s, rubbing her thumb in what she hopes are soothing circles over Morgana’s hand. 

“It was you,” Gwen says, no accusation in her voice. “You helped the man escape.”

Morgana doesn’t meet her eyes and she juts her chin out defiantly, as if she is expecting reproach. Gwen doesn’t know how to explain to Morgana that there is almost nothing she could do that would prompt Gwen to leave her side.

“Yes,” Morgana says after a moment. 

Her voice catches at the end of the word, trails upward and hitches in the way that Gwen remembers from when Morgana was younger, stubbornly refusing to cry in public after a quarrel with Uther. Gwen remembers being nothing more than a teen herself, but holding Morgana in her arms when the chamber doors shut behind them, listening to her shuddering gasps as she cried out her frustrations. Back then, Morgana had never been afraid. Angry, yes, distressed, yes, but fear was not something Gwen was used to seeing in Morgana. Or at least, it hadn’t been, until the nightmares started. 

What Gwen wants to ask is _why_. Why would Morgana risk making an enemy of Uther for this man she knew nothing about? Of course, Morgana had a stout sense of justice that couldn’t be shaken, no matter how hard Uther tried to stamp it out, and she had surely rebelled in service of it before. Gwen didn’t blame her for it either - her own heart had dropped at the announcement that the man would be executed, memories of her father’s death swirling in up from the depths of her mind and rendering her almost speechless with grief and rage. But there was something else, there must be something other than Morgana being her wonderful, brave, self that had prompted her to act so drastically. Gwen thinks back to the look on Merlin’s face when it had been announced that the man had been accused of sorcery and was condemned to death, thinks of the helplessness and frustration he had expressed when they had discussed it in a quiet corridor. She thinks of the indecision on his face as his own fear of being exposed wrestles with his desire to take action. 

Then Morgana finally turns to look at her, her eyes shining with stubbornly unshed tears, and Gwen suddenly realizes that the look on Merlin’s face is not so different from the one on Morgana’s face now. Something clicks into place in her head and then Gwen understands. Understands the nightmares, the shattered window, the unexplained fire, the everpresent worried crease on Morgana’s forehead. Gwen understands that Morgana has magic and she wants nothing more than to kiss away every last fear that Morgana has ever had, especially if any of those fears were ever to do with the false notion that Gwen, of all people, would ever reject her for this.

She opens her mouth to say it out loud, to tell Morgana that she figured it out and she understands now, understands everything, but then Morgana blinks back tears, and the words get lost somewhere between her throat and mouth. The realization that at this moment, Morgana might not be ready for this conversation, no matter how much Gwen wants to just lay it all out on the table, hits her, and Gwen pauses. 

Morgana is still looking at her, waiting for her response with her lips parted and eyes wide, and Gwen has always just _known_ what Morgana wants, so she leans in and captures her lips with her own. The conversation can wait (for now at least) and quite honestly, Gwen can’t hold herself back anymore. Gwen kisses her softly, sweetly, and Morgana positively melts into it, her body drawing closer and closer. Gwen feels the warmth of Morgana’s hand hovering over her own waist, feels her hesitation in the kiss, knows that Morgana is ridiculously worried about doing something Gwen might not want - as if Gwen doesn’t want everything and anything, so long as it’s with her. And so Gwen skims her own hand up over Morgana’s waist, across her ribs, and finally rests her palm on Morgana’s cheek and pulls back, wanting nothing more than to just look at her. 

She looks dazed, but happy. And Morgana, like this, happy and in her arms, is all Gwen has ever wanted.


End file.
